


we believe in the sum of ourselves

by liketheroad



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-18
Updated: 2011-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:52:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketheroad/pseuds/liketheroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He’s made his peace with Erik’s war, and wants only to minimize the damage, not to the world, but to Erik himself.</i> (Alternate ending fix-it fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we believe in the sum of ourselves

“She didn’t do this, Erik. You did.”

For an instant, Charles is sure Erik will turn away from him, body and mind, but instead Erik locks eyes with him as he slowly removes his helmet, his movements gentle and precise until violently tossing the helmet away from him.

Free to hear Erik’s thoughts, Charles listens close as Erik bows his head, pressing their foreheads together. In that moment, Charles feels all the things Erik will - can - not say. Feels the emotions Erik doesn’t recognize well enough to name. There is anger, of course, bright and furious and most of all, familiar. But the anger inside Erik burns stronger now than ever before, spiked with refusal - to accept what has happened to Charles, to accept his part in it. But deeper still there is guilt, raw and anguished, and below that love, hidden so deep it’s blinding when felt undiluted, pure.

Charles blinks, sure this must be an aberration, but when he opens his eyes again, Erik is still staring penetratingly into his eyes, as if he is reading Charles’ mind at the same time Charles is reading his.

Feeling one last shock of love, Charles nods, shaky but sure, granting the forgiveness he knows Erik will never ask for.

He thinks that will be the end of it, more apology than he would ever have thought to receive from Erik - not for anything - but then Erik swallows brokenly, holding Charles’ face in his hands.

“I’ve already given you my trust, Charles. Now I give you my mind as well. You will not need to ask for my permission again. My mind is open to you.”

Charles nods again, distantly feeling something like relief, something like joy, and promptly passes out.

 _Some months later_

It’s difficult to recruit in secret when the CIA are searching for the same thing they are, when they have to cover their tracks because lives - their very survival - depends on it. It’s difficult when they’re never quite certain who to trust, who to reveal the location of Charles’ home - the _Institute_ , they’re calling it now. Every time he thinks of the place, Charles hears Erik’s mocking sneer shaping the word, curling around the syllables with a mix of derision and pride. It’s harder still to get any of the other mutants to identify themselves, now that mankind has, in Erik’s mind and in so many of theirs, opened war on their people.

In sum, it’s slow and dangerous work, and Charles doesn’t have to read Erik’s mind to know the pace of their recruitment is frustrating Erik to his core, pushing him precariously close to his breaking point once again.

Charles feels Erik’s urgency, the fear that drives it, the desperation to find his people and protect as many of them as he can, to protect them as he had once been unable to protect his mother. Charles feels it all as if it was his urgency too, his fear and anger. He feels these things so sharply that it’s difficult, now, to tell when his emotions end and Erik’s begin.

It has been that way since the beach.

He no longer has to reach out to feel Erik’s mind, to know Erik’s thoughts as clearly as his own. Instead, he finds himself needing to focus to keep Erik’s thoughts at bay, to shield his own mind from the torrent of Erik’s emotions that have become a persistent presence at the back of his mind, forever threatening to burst to the surface and overwhelm him.

At times it’s a blessing, a gift. Like when Erik is gone - miles and sometimes continents away, searching the globe for more of their people - and Charles can still feel him, as sharp and bright as if he was by Erik’s side. Or in quiet moments alone, playing chess in Charles’ study, when he can feel Erik’s mirth and affection as he pretends to let Charles win, only to summarily crush him in the end. Or better still, at the end of the day when they say their good-nights, and Charles will be flooded with sensation, Erik’s _want_ and love threatening to undo him.

In those moments, Charles wants nothing more than to share Erik’s mind always, to live in it, to call it home.

But there are other times, too. Darker times, when Erik’s mind is soaked in blood, when his rage takes hold until it is all either of them can feel. Worse still, when Erik is alone, and he gives himself up to the choking guilt of what he has done to Charles, tormented by fury and pain over what he has taken from Charles.

And in those moments, Charles feels all that he has lost more keenly than at any other time.

Erik thinks of him running, fast as the wind and laughing with the freedom of it, and Charles will be knocked back by Erik’s anger, far stronger than his own, over the fact that he’ll never run like that again.

Erik lies in bed at night and dreams of Charles naked in his bed, strong legs wrapped around Erik’s back, and Charles wakes up gasping along with him, Erik’s tears streaming down his face.

Erik imagines them, standing together at the end of the world, united against everything, and Charles feels the bitter disappointment clogging Erik’s pores, feels Erik’s endless fury that he will never stand at Erik’s side, upright and proud, ever again.

He feels Erik’s loss more deeply than his own, and wonders if he will ever seem complete to Erik again, if having him whole is the only way Erik will ever truly want him. He feels Erik’s despair and at times it nearly destroys him, the darkness of their combined grief almost too much to bear.

In those moments, Charles wishes he could block Erik’s thoughts forever, if only so he could be free of the guilt that promises to ruin them both, if only he could close his eyes and see something other than all the things he will never do again, frozen crystal clear in Erik’s mind’s eye.

\---

Perhaps the strangest part of all, since the beach, is the way Erik _talks_. And not just the familiar long, argumentative philosophical discussions about the future of their species and the humans, the constantly rehashed debates over strategy and the battles between Charles’ optimism and Erik’s relentless realism, either. But about _himself_. He talks about the end of the war, about finally escaping Shaw, about the years spent hunting Shaw and killing as many Nazis as he could along the way. Then he goes further back, to his childhood before the war, describing what he can remember of his family home, his mother’s voice, his father’s gentle hands picking him up and carrying him to bed when he’d fall asleep on the living room floor. They focus hard, and together they dredge up every happy memory Erik has, and each time Charles helps Erik remember something new, he talks about it for hours in a kind of awed, distant tone that Charles has come to love to hear on Erik’s lips.

Charles treasures the happiness in Erik’s voice, in his eyes, fleeting and fragile though it may be. He treasures it, and tries to nurture it as best he can. The fight for Erik’s patience, his capacity to _hope_ hangs so precariously in the balance that Charles knows he must take every chance he gets to remind Erik of who he once was, to remember that boy who loved deeply enough to move mountains of steel with his mind, the one he’d once thought lost to grief and rage.

Charles knows he must help Erik find that boy he once was, to unite his mind, to feel all parts of himself and accept them. He must do this, for Erik, for humanity, and perhaps, if he is willing to admit it, most of all, for himself.

\---

Just because Erik has chosen to stay, it doesn’t mean that they don’t continue to disagree. About almost everything. Their end goal is the same - to gather as many fellow mutants as they can, to train them, to protect them, to find solace and solidarity together against whatever may come. But in terms of method, they continue to clash violently, yelling for hours as Erik paces and hurls metal objects around Charles study with his mind.

Despite these arguments, Erik generally allows himself to be overruled, conceding to the peaceful methods Charles demands, extracting only the mutants that want to be helped, that can leave their homes without being taken from their families with force. Where mutants are concerned, this is no hardship for Erik, who feels little but contempt and distrust for humans, but who equally feels nothing but fierce, protective love for all his fellow mutants, those they have found, and those he continues to search for.

When humans get in his way, he closes is eyes and thinks of Charles, and Charles reaches out with his mind to plead for mercy, for the kindness Erik fears is weakness, and for now, although Charles can never be sure for how much longer, Erik listens.

\---

When Erik goes recruiting, now, he usually takes Alex, and sometimes Sean as well, that is, when Sean’s flirty smiles and relentless enthusiasm are enough to win Alex over, as they are more and more, these days. They’ll drive cross country, or take the Blackbird when it’s called for, gone for days, sometimes weeks.

Every time they come back with new students, new stories of pain and isolation, of fear still tinged with hope. Charles will feel Erik coming, hear his mind humming with eagerness to return to the Institute, to the safety and protection he can offer his fellow mutants there, to the semblance of peace Charles is proud to know Erik has found there himself.

Every time Erik returns, he always comes to find Charles first, to clap him on the shoulder and hold on longer than necessary, to smile, full of teeth, and say it’s good to be home.

Charles believes him, knows the truth in Erik’s words as if they were formed in his own mind, as intimate and sure as that, and yet, despite it all, every time Erik leaves, Charles is afraid that this will be the time he won’t come back.

\---

“He’s not like you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think he’ll _ever_ be like you. No matter how many happy memories you uncover, no matter how many times you reason with him.”

“I know that too.”

Raven cocks her head concernedly, her natural blue making it all the easier, somehow, to read her emotions without having to look into her mind. She’s afraid for him, angry with him, for taking what she perceives to be such a risk, to himself, to his heart.

“Then why? Why ask him to stay? Why let your face shatter with such obvious relief every time he comes back?”

Charles shrugs, moving away from her slightly so he has a better view of the courtyard below so he can avoid her piercing stare.

“Because I don’t think I can do this without him.”

“You can, Charles. You’ve always been strong enough to stand alone.”

Charles smiles darkly. “Not anymore.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re avoiding the point.”

Charles sighs. “Perhaps I am, but surely that’s understandable, given the point you’re trying to make.”

“You don’t _need_ him, Charles. Neither of us do.”

He looks at her then, face as open as he can make it, and says, “I may not need him, but I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“More than peace? More than acceptance into your precious human society?”

Charles lowers his head, eyes fixed on his own hands, folded neatly in his lap. “Acceptance, I’m finally coming to understand, may not be our best option.”

“And you’re really alright with that?”

Charles sighs, looking away once more. “I think perhaps there are other things to hope for, now. Better things.”

“What could be better than having the world accept us?” She asks, not because she doesn’t know her answer to the question, but because she can’t imagine what Charles’ could be.

But he smiles, knowing he will surprise her, happy that, for once, he won’t disappoint her.

“Why, accepting ourselves, of course.”

She smiles then, bright and fierce. “Us against the world?”

He nods, banishing the old dreams for something different, a hope for peace and unity that now seems long dead, gone before it was ever truly attempted. There is something better than that old dream, a future Erik is slowly teaching him to believe in.

“Us.”

\---

Three months after the beach, Erik brings home a girl called Storm along with Alex’s older brother, Scott. Tension sparks between the two brothers as soon as Scott steps foot on the grounds, and Erik has to place a staying hand on Alex’s shoulder to stop him from using his power on his brother.

“What’s all this?” Charles asks, even though he can already hear the answers whispering in Alex’s mind.

For his brother Alex feels only the sting of betrayal, the confusion of a young boy who was taken from the only family he knew. In Alex’s mind, his older brother - who should have protected him, should have kept him safe - allowed Alex to be taken from him, given to a home that could never be his, to a family that wanted him to be someone else.

From Scott, Charles can sense a resentment for the family he believes Alex gained, and righteous anger for the death Alex caused discovering the extent of his powers.

Charles wants them to say the things he already knows, to speak them aloud so they can finally hear each other, but Erik drags Alex away before can answer, his mind sending Charles a harsh warning not to try and stop them.

Left alone with their two newest pupils, Charles tries to smile welcomingly, but fear is coming off Storm and Scott like waves.

“You will be safe here, I promise. We may not always agree, but we are a family, all of us together. No one within these walls will harm you, and we will all work together to see that no one from without them will either.”

Storm smiles, uncertain but hopeful, and Scott squares his shoulders, standing like an old fashioned hero about to charge into his last battle.

Charles sighs to himself, remembering a time when hope came that easily, when the strength of his ideals were more than a match for the realities of their highly imperfect world.

Quieting his mind, he gestures towards the rest of the Institute, and they follow after him, keeping a respectful pace half a step behind him as he teaches them the contours of their new home.

\---

Aside from his chess games with Erik, hours spent in Hank’s lab are Charles’ happiest times.

Ego aside, he’s rarely encountered a mind as brilliant as his own, and there are times when Hank’s genius startles even him, reminding Charles of the early days when he truly believed that knowledge was the key, that science was the answer to unlocking his own secrets, to saving his people, to changing the world.

Alone with Hank’s brilliance, his passion, Charles can almost believe that again.

\---

Erik still touches him, all the time, even more than before, but the promise in his touches is never fulfilled.

Charles thinks it’s revulsion, at first, an inability to want the man Charles is now fighting with the desire for the man he was. It’s a cruel suspicion, and one he nurses for far too long, indulging his own self-pity.

As soon as he cares to look, however, he sees instantly that it’s only guilt, shame, and a perverse act of penance on Erik’s part, as he denies himself the one thing he wants most, the one thing he seems incapable of believing he deserves.

No matter how many times Charles reassures him, in words, or simply in his mind, Erik does not trust the forgiveness Charles has freely given, cannot accept that Charles may forgive him when he refuses to forgive himself.

\---

Usually, the recruitment's are peaceful, not only because it is Charles’ wish and Erik’s promise, but because it is easier that way, cleaner, safer.

But things do not always go according to plan. Sometimes there is resistance, violent and swift, not from their fellow mutants, but from the humans who fear them, who wish to see them locked away, branded and controlled.

Those times, Charles feels Erik’s steely resolve, his ruthlessness, the lengths he will go to, and the impossibility of trying to stop him. In those moments, Charles closes his eyes and blocks out everything but Erik’s mind, and no matter how far way he is, Charles always feels it crystal clear when Erik takes another life, covering his hands with blood that will never quite wash off.

Each time this happens, Erik returns to him defiant, daring Charles to say something, to question him, but Charles never does. He’s made his peace with Erik’s war, and wants only to minimize the damage, not to the world, but to Erik himself.

\---

Charles thinks about kissing Erik, sometimes. About gripping him tight and not letting go, about _taking_ what they both want but Erik is afraid to hope for.

He thinks about dragging Erik to him with the power of his mind, sheer want driving them both, thinks about how he could hold Erik down with just a thought, a flick of the fingers, but he does not.

Erik is not ready, not for Charles, not for what they could truly become together. Charles knows that Erik is already haunted enough, driven to distraction over everything he now has to lose - a family, a home - and Charles cannot bear to be another reason Erik has to lie awake in fear, paralyzed by the knowledge of everything he now has to protect.

He will not take anything more from Erik than he already has, will not ask for another compromise that he fears Erik will grant more out of guilt than love.

\---

In April, Erik disappears from a recruitment mission for three days, and during that time his mind is lost to Charles for the first time since the beach.

He returns home after 74 hours of silence, his mind persistently full of obscure scenery from his trip, snatches of familiar roadsigns and something that looks suspiciously like the CIA headquarters. Overpowering even that, there is happiness to be home, his relief to be back so strong that Charles is unwilling to look any further to see what’s beneath.

Erik keeps his distance, at least in body, for over a week following his return, but Charles feels Erik’s eyes on him wherever he goes.

On the eighth day after his return home, Erik goes out running, and stays gone for hours, his thoughts a blur, lost to the mindless rush of exertion and adrenaline.

When he finally returns, Erik is bent double, red-faced and almost choking for breath.

Charles regards him impassively from the foyer, and inside his mind he hears Erik hiss a challenge, almost a plea.

 _Ask_

Charles closes his eyes, shaking his head.

 _  
**Ask**   
_

Charles shakes his head again, moving towards Erik until he is sitting at his feat.

“You told me once that I have your trust, my friend. I’d hoped you already knew that you also have mine.”

Erik stares at him, still breathing hard, suspicion warring with hope on his face.

Charles smiles at him, all the more genuine for the ways it is tinged with sadness and regret.

“My trust, Erik - and whatever else of mine you would accept - is yours.”

Disbelief hovers on Erik’s face and in his mind for a moment more, and then he nods, with as much finality as Charles once did, all those months ago on the beach, and then he walks away, not yet ready to face the desire in Charles’ mind, no matter how sincere or freely given.

\---

“Your move.” Erik prods him gently, his forefinger and thumb closing briefly around Charles’ wrist.

Charles nods absently, shifting his hand so it remains under Erik’s, more focused on the want curling around Erik’s body as the contact between the continues than on the game.

He will allow himself this much, and only this. To accept the contact Erik initiates, to do whatever he can to savour it, to make it last.

He flexes his fingers invitingly, and even though he feels Erik’s sudden recklessness, his overpowering desire to give in, Charles is still stunned with Erik closes his fingers around Charles’, squeezing tight and not letting go.

“Your move, Charles,” he repeats, but there’s something playful in his tone, more heady promise than anything else, and Charles laughs, squeezing Erik’s hand tighter.

“I believe I just made it.”

Erik laughs, triumphant, and tugs him closer.

\---

When they’re not training, the lines between students and teachers blend, and in the mundane moments of everyday life, that is when they are most like a family.

They bicker over the grocery list, always long and varied given the ever growing size of their little community. They swap chores for favors and engage in endless competitions, powers pitted playfully against each other.

Charles watches the bonds forming amongst his pupils, his friends, and it makes him wonder how he could have ever wanted anything else.

He sees Raven truly happy for the first time in her life, sees her shine more beautifully in her true form than she ever did with cream-colored skin and golden hair.

He sees Hank growing into himself, into the Beast, a dazzling mix of strength and brilliance, a united whole that Hank so long feared to become.

He sees Alex loosening inside his own skin, becoming comfortable in the space he occupies, no longer flinching away from physical contact, no longer hiding from the world in a cell of his own making.

He sees Sean laughing as he flies through the sky propelled only through the power of his own voice, sees him huddled against Alex’s side in the evenings, finally allowed to linger where he has desired to be for as long as Charles has known him.

He sees Storm and Scott and all the other new recruits slowly learning to trust their new world, to believe in the future they’re all building together.

And he sees Erik, not caged, not broken, but settled, almost content.

Best of all, when Charles closes his eyes and opens his mind, he can look within Erik and he see himself, more proud and beautiful than he could ever have believed, the only home Erik will ever want or need.


End file.
